Kitabı oku: «Childfinders, Inc.: An Uncommon Hero», sayfa 4

Chapter 5

Despite the fact that it had been busy ever since they’d opened their doors this morning, Gina’s eyes darted toward the electronic doors when she head the tiny buzzer sound, announcing the entrance of a new customer. It was a woman in her late forties. The rise in adrenaline leveled off.

This was stupid.

She had a great many more important things on her mind than a good-looking man supposedly writing a screenplay about the massacre at Wounded Knee. A very good-looking man, her mind amended automatically and entirely against her will.

“Next, please,” she called to the orderly line of people who stood behind the deep purple plush ropes strung up solely to keep them in their place.

A heavyset man with an armload of books walked up, depositing them on the counter. Tilted, the books scattered every which way, mostly sprawling out on her side of the counter, some falling beneath. Offering a vague, sympathetic smile at the flustered man, Gina gathered the books up.

For all she knew, Gina thought as she began ringing up the sale for the hapless customer, Ben’s story about needing to do research for his screenplay could have all been just an elaborate pickup line. When she’d turned him down for dinner, not once but twice, that might have been the end of it.

Gina scanned two more books quickly, punching in the total, telling herself it was just as well that he hadn’t returned.

No, it hadn’t been just about a pickup, she thought, still carrying on the internal debate. He’d sounded sincere. She knew it. Besides, he’d come to her rescue the first time she’d met him and he hadn’t tried to come on to her then. Sure he was sexy, but he didn’t seem to be deceitful. Maybe he was exactly what he seemed, an earnest dreamer pursuing his dream. An earnest, sweet, good-looking dreamer.

Ben Underwood might be a dreamer, but she couldn’t be, Gina reminded herself, slipping all the books she’d just rung up into a shopping bag and then handing it to the man with a vague smile.

“Have a nice day,” she told him. She was in no position to daydream like normal people. She wasn’t normal people. Not right now, at any rate. She was a woman on the run and she had to remember that.

Maybe not, a small voice whispered within her. Maybe the running was finally over. Maybe the man who’d robbed her of so many nights’ sleep had decided she was too much trouble to pursue any further and had given up looking for her. Maybe she was finally safe.

Safe.

God, but she’d never realized how overwhelmingly seductive the four-letter word could be. Safe. Safe to go about her life doing everyday things, safe not to be constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering, worrying. Safe not to see shapes hidden in the shadows, afraid that she was being followed.

The front door buzzer sounded. She lost her place in counting out the next customer’s change.

“Sorry,” she murmured, beginning again.

The man buying the massive cookbook looked at her as if she were incapable of counting beyond five. “Maybe I should have given you a charge card.”

The slightly condescending tone and tolerant expression on his patrician face made her want to whip out her college diploma to show him that she was quite capable of conducting monetary transactions of any amount.

A lot of good that would do, she realized ruefully. The name on the diploma didn’t match the one on her name tag.

“Please come again,” she murmured as cheerfully as she could muster.

The man mumbled something in response that was lost on her as she found herself looking up into eyes that were almost Wedgwood blue. Ben had come up on her blind side and was now leaning against the counter, blocking the next customer.

“Hi, are we still on?”

Was it possible for him to look better today than he had yesterday? Or was that just the self-imposed drought in her life that was making her suddenly thirsty? Thirsty for the companionship of a personable man who wanted nothing more from her than just her mind.

“On?” she echoed.

The customer took her books to the clerk at the next register, giving Gina an envious look. It wasn’t lost on Gina.

“For tonight,” Ben prompted. He didn’t appear annoyed that she seemed to have momentarily forgotten. “You said that you couldn’t go out after work last night, but that you probably could tonight.” He looked at her hopefully. Or was that just her imagination?

She’d talked to Betty, who had checked with her mother last night. Since tonight was a Friday night and Betty hadn’t hit the dating circuit yet—her mother referred to Betty as a late bloomer—Gina was assured of a sitter for Jesse.

Now all that remained was taking that final leap from self-proclaimed female hermit to socializing woman. Easier contemplated than done.

For most of her life, she’d loved company, loved going out. She’d always been a people person, until she’d had her trust betrayed at a college fraternity party. McNair had resurrected the leeriness that had come to define and delineate her life for months after her rape, making her hold all men suspect. Looking for ulterior motives.

She hated being that way, and yet…

“Oh, right.” Gina beckoned forward the next customer who was about to bypass her. “I can take you here,” she told the woman, then looked at Ben. “Um, I’m not so sure that I can, after all. There’s the store, we don’t lock up until ten tonight—” As she scanned the book, the numbers popped up on the register.

“Don’t they let you go out for dinner?” Ben dead-panned.

“I’ll lock up for you tonight, Gina,” a deep voice on her other side rumbled.

She glanced toward the other register, not surprised to see the slightly superior look gracing the face of the tall, thin, prematurely balding young man. The man with the improbable name of Joe Valentine had regarded her as an interloper when Jon had given her responsibility of the store over him. Joe had been working at the bookstore a total of two and a half years and considered himself not just a clerk, but Jon’s assistant. Gina had changed all that and he made no secret of the fact that he didn’t care for it.

“After all, it’s not like I haven’t done it before,” Joe said smugly.

There went her last excuse, she thought, secretly glad of it. She liked being divested of excuses, because part of her really wanted to see Ben again, under any pretext. Pretexts made her feel that it was all right. “Thanks, Joe, as long as you don’t mind.”

“Hey, where else am I going to go?”

“It looks like it’s all settled, then,” Ben said to her. “Unless you don’t want to.” He knew if he left it open like that, she wouldn’t feel he was trying to pressure her into anything.

Oh, she wanted to, all right. Maybe a little too much. “It’s not that—”

“Something else?”

The cop in him rose to the fore. He peered at her, keeping his voice casual, wondering if her resistance involved Andrew in some way. Was she keeping the boy someplace accessible? Was there someone else involved? Was this not just about revenge, the way McNair thought, but a child kidnapping ring with Andrew the latest victim?

It was a horrible thought, but one that was far from new. Ben knew that Cade’s own son had been kidnapped for just that reason. It had taken Cade three years to find the boy again. Darin Townsend was the reason ChildFinders, Inc. existed.

She almost said something about Jesse and being reluctant to leave him, but at the last minute decided not to. She was undoubtedly being overly paranoid, but there was no harm in keeping her private life private. No harm and maybe a great deal of good.

“No, nothing else.”

Score one for the home team. “Well then it looks like it’s settled. How about Wellington’s?” Ben asked.

She was familiar with the restaurant. It was a place she’d treated herself to once a month while she’d been attending college. The food was wonderful and the ambience even better. It was a place she could easily see him in, but not for the type of thing she’d thought he had in mind. Suspicions whispered in her ear again.

“Isn’t that a little fancy? I thought you just wanted to grab a bite to eat and talk about research.”

His smile disarmed her before he said a word.

“Who says the bite has to be in a fast-food place? Or that we have to chew fast?”

He saw the protest forming on her lips, saw the indecision in her eyes. He was winning her over, but he had to talk quickly to sustain his advantage. Getting her to a friendly, neutral place that might seduce her defenses was all part and parcel of his plan to get her comfortable enough to talk to him. The more she talked, the more likely she’d be to let something slip.

“Think of it as partial payment for your time,” he told her.

She couldn’t help smiling. “Script points and dinner?”

“Right. And anything else you can think of, too.”

Her eyes narrowed. Was this just an elaborate come-on after all? She didn’t want to believe it, yet… “Such as?”

“I’m very handy with my hands.”

Her heart sank. It was a come-on. “I’m afraid I really don’t—”

He stopped her before she said something he was going to regret. “That didn’t come out right. What I mean is that I can fix things around the house. Cracking plaster, doors that stick, things like that.”

The small condo she had sublet from Jon’s friend could more than use a face-lift, but not from someone she didn’t know. She knew the danger of opening her door and her life to someone.

“I don’t need anything fixed,” she assured him.

“All right,” he replied philosophically, “then it’ll just be dinner and research.”

“Dinner and research,” she echoed.

A line was beginning to form at the register again. Joe was looking toward them with a less than friendly expression on his face. Ben began to talk quickly before Gina saw the clerk and retreated to help him. “What time would you like me to pick you up?”

It would keep things simpler if he didn’t know where she lived. “Since this is dinner and research, why don’t I just meet you at the restaurant?”

He picked up on her reluctance to share her address. The scale tipped against her again. “You really are an independent woman, aren’t you?”

The grin that curved her mouth nearly unraveled him. It was completely guileless and captivating. “Whenever possible.” Hearing Joe clear his throat, she realized that she’d somehow managed to drift away from the register. She began moving back toward the registers. “Now then, I’m afraid I’ve got to get back to work.”

He wasn’t finished yet. There was one more thing he needed from her. Her prints. Ben glanced toward the section she had directed him toward yesterday. “Um, I was wondering if you could recommend any other books for me from the store?”

She thought a moment, shaking her head. “I think we covered that last time.” Surprise flittered over her features. “You didn’t finish the one you bought yesterday already, did you?”

He nodded. “Stayed up all night. I thought if there was something else—”

“All right, let’s see.” Because he seemed so eager, she went to check the books listed by subject on the computer. Going over the inventory, she stopped at a particular title. “Well, there is one more that might help—”

All he needed was one. Because the books were accessible to the public, the idea of getting her prints from the one he’d already bought hadn’t occurred to him until after he’d handled it extensively. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. “Take me to it.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “You really are eager about this, aren’t you?”

He said what he knew she needed to hear, even though there was a part of him that was starting to feel uncomfortable with the duplicity. “So eager I can taste it.”

Telling Joe she would be right back, she brought Ben over to the American history section and, after a moment, found the book she was looking for. It was out of place. “This one doesn’t go into depth on the battle, but it does give you a pretty good background on the tribal life and the people.” Turning from the shelf, she started to hand the book to him.

He made no effort to take it from her. Instead, he indicated the register. “Great. I’ll take it.”

“Don’t you want to look through it first?”

“No, I trust your instincts.” He began leading the way to the front counter. She had no choice but to follow. “Ring it up for me and I’ll be out of your hair until tonight.”

“All right.” Joe spared her an annoyed look as she went to the second register and scanned in the book for Ben. “Twenty-three fifty-eight.”

She took the two bills Ben handed her and made change, then tore off the receipt and slipped it, along with the book, into a bag.

He took the bag from her. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“All right.” She said the words, banking down the excitement that popped up unexpectedly. A customer looked at her impatiently and she waved the woman forward.

“What time?” Ben asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t tell me what time,” he pointed out, then suggested one for her. “Seven all right?”

Gina hesitated for a moment. It would take a while for Jesse to settle in if he knew she was going out. “Eight would be better.”

“Eight,” he agreed. “I’ll see you then.”

A feeling of triumph mixed with something he couldn’t quite identify flowed over him as he left the store.

His next stop was a stationery store he’d seen on the next block. He needed a padded manila envelope.

“Where’s the nearest post office?” he asked the clerk who rang up his purchase.

The woman thought for a moment, then conferred with the woman at the next register before giving him a location. The branch was five blocks from his motel.

Back in his car again, Ben wrote out ChildFinders’ address across the front of the manila envelope, marking it to Rusty’s attention, then slipped the book, the receipt and the paper bag inside. The brief note he included asked Rusty to get all three items to the lab to be dusted for fingerprints. Since she’d been a government employee, Gloria Prescott’s prints had to be on file somewhere. Between Rusty and Savannah, he figured it wouldn’t be all that difficult to find the prints and get a match.

If there was one.

He tried not to dwell on his resistance to the idea. He wasn’t getting paid to take sides, but to do a job. So far, the agency had solved every case of a missing child. He didn’t intend to be the first one to fail.

Jesse scrutinized Gina with sharp green eyes. “Are we going out, Mommy?”

She’d been anticipating the inevitable barrage of questions all through dinner, especially since she hadn’t eaten, just kept him company while he’d had his. “Not we, kiddo, me.”

Uncertainty imprinted itself on his small face. “You’re leaving me?”

She knew that ever since they’d uprooted from the only place he’d ever called home, he’d felt uneasy and threatened. She turned from the mirror that a number of earthquakes had managed to warp ever so slightly and looked down at him. “No, I’m not leaving you. I’m going out for a few hours. Like I used to, remember?”

He nodded, his small head bobbing up and down. “When we lived in Bedford?”

She stooped down to give him a quick hug meant to reassure him. And maybe herself, just a little. “Yes, baby, when we lived in Bedford.”

He disentangled himself from her, giving her his most grown-up look. “I’m not a baby, Mommy. I’m six.”

“Right, practically a man.” She rose to her feet again. “Sorry, I keep forgetting.” Slipping on her heels, she smoothed the sides of the dress, then looked down at her kindest critic. “So, do you like it?”

He cocked his head, doing his best to look as if he was scrutinizing her. “It’s okay. Is it for somebody special?”

She wasn’t taken in by the noncommittal tone. She knew what was on his mind.

“You’re the only somebody special in my life, kiddo. And don’t you forget it.” Catching him by the shoulders, she tickled him. He dissolved in a fit of giggles. “How about me, am I the only somebody special in your life?”

He worked his bottom lip with baby teeth. “Maybe.”

Pretending surprised indignity, she fisted her hands at her hips and gave him a penetrating look. “Oh, ‘maybe’ is it? Okay, spill it, kiddo, who’s the hussy who stole your heart? Out with it. What’s her name?”

He laughed, knowing she was only kidding. His mom was a great kidder. “Judy. Judy Camden.”

“Judy, huh?” Even as she teased, she searched Jesse’s eyes for signs of things she anticipated. He wasn’t going to be hers exclusively forever. The shift had to start sometime. She knew she wasn’t going to be ready for it no matter when it came, but for Jesse’s sake, she was going to do her best to pretend she was. “So, what’s this Judy Camden like?”

“Pretty,” he said quickly, then added in a slightly lower voice, “and she’s got candy.”

Gina stifled a laugh. He was still her six-year-old. “Knew it, an ulterior motive.”

Jesse’s features drew together in concentration. “What’s an ulterior motive?”

Picking up a comb, she did last-minute touch-ups to her hair. “A reason that you’re doing something that isn’t always obvious.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Like why we moved away, Mommy?”

She was careful not to let him know how much she worried about the way all this was affecting him. At no time had she ever said anything to lead him to believe he was in any danger. “We moved away because I wanted to live in San Francisco for a while, and be not that far away from Aunt Sugar.” Smiling brightly, she trusted herself to look at him. “You like Aunt Sugar, don’t you?”

The grin was wide and infectious. “Yeah, she’s nice. And she makes good cookies.”

“That she does.” Finished, she took his hand in hers. It felt so small, she thought, protectiveness welling up inside of her. “Now, it’s off to bed with you, kiddo. Betty’s coming, so you call her if you need anything and I’ll be back before you know it.”

He looked up at her as they walked into his bedroom. “Promise?”

She crossed her heart with her free hand. “Promise.”

He beamed at her. “I love you, Mommy.”

She picked him up in her arms, needing to hug him to her. “And I love you.”

Jesse drew back his head so he could look at her. “Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever,” she repeated. “And a day longer than that.”

Satisfied, he nodded. “Okay, you can go.”

She laughed and scooted him into his bed, thinking herself to be the luckiest woman who ever lived. “Thank you, master.”

“You’re welcome.”

He giggled at the face she made at him.

Chapter 6

Her perfume seductively preceded her as Gina approached his table. Just the lightest, stirring scent of honeysuckle teased his senses. The promise of spring within the heart of winter.

Ben got his mind back on his job and his role. He smiled at her as he rose in his seat. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Slipping out of her coat, Gina slid into the seat the maître d’ held out for her. She tried not to pay any attention to the strange, small quiver in the pit of her stomach. Ben’s masculinity was just the slightest bit disconcerting.

His eyes were kind, but he wasn’t a safe man. He was a man who could easily rattle a woman’s foundation, who could make a woman stray from the clear-and-narrow path. A man who could have her forgetting her thoughts in midsentence. Like now.

“I was beginning to think I wasn’t, either. Friday night’s not the easiest night to find—” Gina caught herself, stopping abruptly. She met his quizzical expression with a soft one of her own as she continued. “What I was looking for.”

That wasn’t what she’d been about to say, Ben thought. “Which was?”

“A new dress.” She looked up at him brightly. “Do you like it?”

His eyes slowly took inventory of what he could see. A simple high-necked turquoise dress that graced her curves as if it had been made with just her in mind.

And stirred a man’s mind in directions that were best not traveled, he thought.

“Very much.” He indicated the plate of stuffed mushrooms. “I ordered appetizers for us, I hope you don’t mind.”

The candle’s flickering flame accented the pleased light that entered her eyes. “No, I love stuffed mushrooms.” She gingerly picked up one and popped it into her mouth. The familiar taste stirred memories. The last time she’d had stuffed mushrooms was at the art gallery show. When her life had changed forever.

He watched the small appetizer disappear between her lips and entertained the oddest sensation of being envious of a mushroom. And then he smiled.

“What?”

Instead of answering, he picked up his napkin. The tiniest scrap of cheese stuffing clung to the right corner of her mouth.

“Hold still.” Capturing the point of her chin with his hand, Ben lightly wiped the telltale evidence away.

For just the slightest moment in time, he felt a current pass through him, tightening his belly. Ben dropped the napkin back down on his lap.

The look in her eyes told him she’d felt it as well.

God, but her eyes were blue.

Gina’s mind turned to mush as the breath stopped in her lungs.

“You, um, had a little cheese on your mouth,” he said.

“Thank you,” she murmured, searching for something safe to talk about and trying not to think about the way her stomach had suddenly given birth to a squadron of butterflies just because a man she hardly knew had wiped away a dot of cheese at the corner of her mouth.

The waiter appeared to save her, ready to take their order.

“Would you like more time?” Ben asked. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the menu yet.”

“Allow me to tell you the specials of the day,” the waiter offered, then subtly took a deep breath to launch into a recitation.

But Gina held her hand up, stopping the man before he could tell her the first item.

“That’s all right, I know more or less what’s on the menu and what I want. I used to come here all the time.” It had been one of her favorite places to go. She’d taken Aunt Sugar here one of the few times the older woman had visited her in San Francisco.

“Used to? When?” Ben kept the question casual as he looked over his own menu.

“In another life,” she murmured half to herself, then looked up at him, sensing he was looking at her. “I went to college around here.”

“But it’s not home.”

“No, it’s not home.” Glancing at the menu to make sure the item was still being offered, she ordered shrimp with alfredo sauce and surrendered her menu to the young waiter.

“The same,” Ben told him. The waiter nodded and withdrew. “He looked disappointed that he couldn’t tell you the specials of the day.” There was laughter in her eyes and he found himself momentarily mesmerized and lost. “What?”

She was being silly, she thought. Probably just giddy at the thought of getting out for the evening. She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You’re trying not to laugh. Let me in on the joke,” he coaxed. “What is it?”

“It’s just that the waiter looks a little like Clark Kent.” She nodded toward the departing food server. “Superman’s alter ego,” she prompted when Ben didn’t say anything.

“I know who Clark Kent is.” She’d given him an opening. He took it and ran with it. “I was just thinking about secrets.”

“What about them?”

The shrug was purposely vague. “That everyone probably has one or two.”

Gina looked away as she took another stuffed mushroom and eased it onto her small plate.

He was making her jittery. Good, that made two of them. Except that he wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to be thinking about the case and not about the long legs that were beneath the table, next to his.

“How about you, Gina? Do you have any secrets?” He kept his tone light, teasing. Watching her eyes.

Gina raised them to his as the rest of the restaurant and its occupants seemed to recede. Despite the quavering in her stomach and its new winged occupants, she couldn’t help wondering if Ben was fishing or flirting.

She was being paranoid again, she upbraided herself. Why would he be fishing? He had no connection with where she’d come from. No connection to why she’d left.

But looking over her shoulder was what kept her and Jesse free.

“Like you said, everyone has secrets, I think.” With effort, she kept her voice as light as his. She looked at him pointedly.

“So, what’s yours?” He topped off her glass of wine, though she’d only had a sip or two. “Better yet, what’s your secret fantasy?”

A faraway look entered her eyes. That was easy. “Just to be happy.”

Ben studied her, intrigued. “That’s all? That doesn’t sound like such an exotic fantasy.”

The last thing she wanted was an exotic fantasy. She’d indulged in fantasy once and been slapped down just as it was about to become a reality.

“It’s not. But don’t kid yourself, it’s harder to achieve than you might think.” She’d sacrificed a great deal to that end. The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t about to drop the subject. She turned the tables on him. “How about you? Any secrets up your sleeve? Any unfulfilled fantasies?”

He drained the rest of his drink. “Two very different questions,” he pointed out.

“Then choose one.” Finished with the mushroom, she wiped her fingertips on the edge of her napkin. “And answer it.”

He thought a moment, then took his cue from her and embellished in a way he knew would draw her in. A way he actually believed in when cynicism didn’t intrude, getting in the way. “I guess being happy sounds pretty good.” He paused in just the right place. “And making the world a better place for being in it.”

“Very noble.” Was he just feeding her a line? She’d rather think that he wasn’t, that he was being sincere. “Is that why you’ve decided to tell the story?”

He was getting lost in her eyes again, he realized. He’d hoped to use his charm on her to get her to open up, but it seemed that the reverse was proving true. And she didn’t even seem to be trying. “Excuse me?”

“The massacre. At Wounded Knee. Your screenplay,” she finally said when his expression remained ever so slightly bewildered.

“Oh, right.” Annoyance at his own lapse rose up within him. He smiled engagingly. Covering. “Sorry, I got lost in your eyes for a second there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen blue that intense before.”

And he wasn’t now, she thought. At least, not in the way he believed. She was wearing contact lenses. All part of the disguise. The pang of regret was unexpected and Gina blocked it, but not before it had made its presence known.

She struggled to clear her head and not lose her own way amid the lies that were tangled within the truth.

“So, any other fantasies?” she asked brightly. “Besides writing the great American screenplay?”

“No, that would about do it,” he replied with a gentle smile. But if he were to indulge in a fantasy, he thought, it would have something to do with a woman who smelled of honeysuckle in the winter and had a waist that begged for a man’s hand to slip around it. He reached for one of the breadsticks instead. “I guess I’m just your average, run-of-the-mill, boring guy.”

The last thing this man was, was boring, she thought. There was a sexual vitality about him. Just being in the same room with him was enough to make that evident.

She liked the way he looked at her, as if she were the only one in the room instead of just one of many. There was a danger in liking it, but for a few hours, under the protective umbrella of a crowded restaurant, she’d allow herself to enjoy it. Just a little. What was the harm in pretending? As long as she remembered it was just pretend.

The waiter returned with their meals, murmuring something about hoping they enjoyed them before he retreated again.

“You’re right,” Ben acknowledged, lowering his voice as he leaned in toward her. “Clark Kent all the way.” He grinned at her.

It was the kind of grin that went clear down to the bone, Gina caught herself thinking, as it took her hostage. She was going to have to watch herself. She was definitely still too vulnerable to be out with a man she didn’t really know.

The evening passed far too quickly and he’d enjoyed it. Enjoyed talking to her, looking at her. The conversation hadn’t brought him an inch closer to his investigation. Revolving around impersonal subjects as well as his supposed screenplay’s subject matter, somehow it had still managed to give him an intimate image of the woman across the table.

Or maybe it was just a skillfully fashioned image he was meant to buy into. He wasn’t certain. Instincts that had seen him through so much had suddenly proved useless. All he knew was that he found himself liking her. More and more.

Guilt ran through his conscience. You weren’t supposed to like a kidnapper. If she was one.

When the check arrived, he paid it in cash rather than use a card, then rose to his feet to help her on with her coat. As he did, he palmed the scarf she’d worn tucked in at the neck, slipping it into his pocket. Then he leaned in close to distract her and keep her from noticing its absence.

“Sure I can’t convince you to go dancing?”

Dancing. That would describe what the warm shiver that was traveling through her was doing. His breath touched her skin as he spoke, creating a longing that was almost overwhelming. A longing that reminded her she was a woman. Regret was abysmal but had to be obeyed.

“I’m afraid I’m sure.”

He suddenly regretted that he wouldn’t have an excuse to hold her in his arms, even if it was only for three-to five-minute increments. “Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe.”

The night wind was cold and brusque, as they left the shelter of the restaurant and stepped outside. He wasn’t used to weather like this. Living in Southern California had made him soft. “So, can I drive you home?”